


A Different Breed

by kaelliope



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Flirting, Fluff, May or may not be canon compliant, Other, POV Alternating, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, cursing, obviously, the whole shebang, we’ll have to see how season 5 goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelliope/pseuds/kaelliope
Summary: In the end, all creatures are ruled by the same force: kismet.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Loba
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	A Different Breed

_A musky, dimly-lit lobby was filled with bristling gladiators. Every contestant was preparing to board an even more cramped dropship. This was the opening game of the one-hundred and twenty-seventh season._

Among them, a _hunter_ stood in the corner, quietly observing the room. They often regarded themself as an observer in life and this moment was no different. Contestants squabbled as everyone waited for the official teams to be announced, but the hunter was at ease. They looked up at a large holographic display. The ritual had begun and banners of both legends and newcomers flashed in trios. _Supposedly_ every squad was randomized every game— but veterans knew that not to be the case. 

The hunter’s banner flashed and they watched closely, seconds ticking by. Soon enough they were paired with two other squadmates. 

_Oh_. 

_Interesting._

They were well-acquainted with the _soldier—_ the third member, though? Not so much, yet they couldn’t help being excited to fight alongside _her._

It was easy to spot the soldier; she stood taller than the rest, even some men. 

_Bloodhound_ watched her and eventually she turned. Anita smiled but it looked more like a wince. The hunter knew she wasn’t thrilled about their third squadmate. They hummed in amusement and jumped down from their perch, knowing that this match would be entertaining in the least. 

The pair greeted each other— a firm handshake and nod. It didn't take her long to say something. “Can’t believe we ended up with this bitch. And literally, she _is_ a bitch.” 

Never one to miss a beat, the hunter chirped back, “Then what does that make me?” 

“A mutt.” She grinned. 

“Hm.” They grinned as well, cheeks touching a piece of padded interior on their mask. Anita couldn’t see. No one could. This was how they liked it though. In these moments, the hunter took even more delight in the fact no one could tell how they were reacting. 

“Speak of the _bitch_ ,” she hissed, eyeing something behind their back. 

Bloodhound turned around. Their third squadmate was approaching. She seemingly walked out of the shadows. Several contestants stared and pointed upon realizing her presence. They knew what everyone knew— about her _parents_ , her _reputation_ , and her _conquests_ . And she was the one who sprung from the crumbling earth— who had plunged those precious bones into the water below. It was a terrifying, yet admirable display. They had only managed to spot her from afar. _This_ was much different. She was close and her radiant beauty was now almost tangible. 

With hips switching, the hunter made a concentrated effort to keep their eyes up— away from her form and bosom. Sure, they could let their eyes drift and she would be none the wiser, but they had honor. Stealing such looks would be disrespectful. 

“Lovely,” their third squadmate purred as the last click of her heel sounded. 

She stared. 

She stared directly at them, right through the black lenses, into their very soul (while paying absolutely no attention to Anita’s palpable, seething aura).

Bloodhound found themself smiling, much wider than before, giddy and entranced with the woman that stood before them. The contours of their mask were now pressed tight to their beaming expression. They had never _seen_ such a woman. Her very presence was intoxicating. She was… The poet was at a loss for words. Very rarely had such a thing happened. It didn’t matter now, though. Later was the time for wool-gathering. Now was the time for battle. 

Feverish blush made them sweat. Their copious layers of gear quickly became uncomfortable. 

_Oh, they were so grateful for the mask._ If Anita saw their fluster, they would never hear the end of it. If _Loba_ saw, well, they didn’t want her to see. They wanted to be the stoic warrior she knew them as— a stoic warrior that would prove themself to her in battle. She would be awe-stricken with their prowess, surely. They would be able to woo her in a way that the others couldn’t. After all, they were the only record-holding champion. This was the perfect chance to win, not just an opening game, but the admiration of _such a woman_. 

Their heart raced. This was a desire they rarely got to indulge in.

“ _Bloodhound_.” She tilted her head and looked them over, head to toe, with a bemused expression. “You look even... frumpier in person.” 

_Frumpier. They hadn’t heard that English word before. What did it mean?_ It sounded odd. Hopefully, it was an endearment. They smiled wider, but only to themself. 

“Thank you.” They blurted. 

“Oh, you’re so cute.” Her perfect brow furrowed into an expression of pity as she cocked her head. She gazed at them like a child admiring a small dog. _Cute._ The hunter knew exactly what that meant. They almost fell over. She was calling _them_ cute. _They were cute!!_

“Jesus, _Hound._ Please don’t tell me you’re slobbering over this—” 

“Speak only when spoken to, _private_ ,” Loba snapped with venom and turned on a heel to glare at her. 

“I don’t remember having to ask for your goddamn graces, _corset.”_

“ _Ooo_. Private, Corset, and Frumpy. What a formidable threesome we make. This is going to be a long match.” With an annoyed sigh and a switch of the hips, she pushed past the pair and parted the crowd with ease. Her grace filled the room. The sleek wolf seemed to lap up the attention as everyone in the dimly-lit lobby turned to stare. 

Including the hopeless hunter. 

They were pissed a second ago— pissed at Anita for scaring off such a rare creature. Now they were back to being dazed. Her crimson braids swung like the chain of a hypnotizing timepiece. _And her hips_ — Bloodhound shook their head. Such voyeurism was dishonorable. So they watched her, only with the purest of intentions. Never before had the hunter felt such a strong desire to _know_ someone. She flew high above the rest of the contestants who scrapped in the Ring. She was a _hunter_ too— strong in her convictions. It made her outward beauty even more bewitching. 

Their bliss only lasted a second as an ice-cold hand grabbed their arm from behind. Being pulled so abruptly from the dream made them jump. 

“I thought you were solid. Turns out you’re just another damn _simp_.” Anita hissed.

“A what?” 

“She insults you and you respond with _‘thank you?_ ’ Is this fuckin’ freaky Friday? Did you switch bodies with Witt?” 

“It’s not… Friday.” _It was Tuesday._ The hunter was bewildered. They didn’t have a clue as to what she was snapping on about. Between the radiant beauty of the wolf and Anita’s sudden aggression, they were stunned like a hapless, young animal.

“God _damn_.” She released her grip. “You better keep your fucking head on— don’t lose this match for me.” 

Bloodhound grunted. They weren’t afraid of her and they didn’t want to deal with her endless jabs. They had other things to focus on. Battle and, particularly, another _woman_ were at the forefront of their mind. 

The hunter left the soldier. They moved into the crowd and trailed after the wolf.   
  


* * *

The odd trio somehow managed to make it out of the dropship, but that was only after the two women ended their near constant bickering. The hunter had to break them up, urging the two to focus on the battle at hand. Loba was nonchalant whilst Anita was sour, wanting to get one last word in. Other squads swiveled around, eager to get a scoop on the bewitching, new contestant. 

Of course neither of them could decide on a landing zone without snapping and both finally agreed to pass the responsibility onto the hunter. 

“ _Here_ ,” Bloodhound called loudly above the roar of the engines and the strong current of air. They pointed to the remains of _Bridges_. It wasn’t an ideal location, but their squad mates bickering had stalled the trio. Neither of them protested and each gave a curt nod. 

The rush of the jump hit instantly as they leapt off the back of the ship. Their two comrades followed suit. 

The drop was quick— nearly straight down. The hunter flipped and for a fleeting moment they spotted the wide grin of the wolf behind them. 

All three then split to land in separate, but adjacent locations.

Anita stumbled and charged into a building. She had landed farther west— away from the other two and the hunter could easily figure as to why. 

The wolf landed with grace, near a ramshackle shed. She had never used a jump kit before. Bloodhound watched her for a moment and felt a flush of embarrassment as they remembered their first landing from several seasons ago. Thankfully, the resulting concussion was the worst injury they had sustained from the match. 

They took another moment to examine the large crater near the destroyed bridge; it was a footprint. In an odd way, they mourned the presence of the lumbering giants that had once occupied the land. They were beautiful creatures who were all too kind to be placed in the middle of battle. Ultimately, though, as much as they missed the beasts, it was better that they had returned to the sea. 

Remember that enemies could be nearby, they hastily snatched a rifle and ammo from a nearby bin then rushed to a building. 

Poking around the bottom floor revealed nothing other than shield and bag. The sound of heels clicked along the planks outside and their heart raced. Eventually they turned and the wolf joined them in the shelter with a smile, already equipped with two weapons and several bits of gear. The hunter was going to say something but was interrupted by static on the squad’s shared comms. 

“Got a sniper. I’m gonna watch the lane.” The soldier announced. It was a smart move as several squads had landed north, near the Bunker. She could spot them as they moved downstream towards Bridges and possibly get a few shots in. 

Bloodhound knew that Anita had an ulterior motive as well— really, she just wanted an excuse to distance herself as much as possible from Loba. Splitting up wasn’t a strategy they were fond of but they weren’t about to tell her ‘no’. 

“Okay,” they said over the comms built into their helmet. 

Loba arched an eyebrow, but was silent and wandered up the stairs of the rickety shelter. The hunter quickly trailed behind her. The pair picked around the loot of the upper level for a few quiet moments. There was nothing of interest to them other than some sniper ammo. The hunter cracked open the door leading to a balcony and spotted a mag. _Oh._

“Light mag here,” they quickly remembered R-99 strapped to her back. They were all too eager to assist. Gingerly, they handed her the mag. 

“Aha, thanks. _Woof._ ” She winked. 

All they could manage was a short nod as the words balled up in their throat. _Gods_. The red and golden pigment that framed her eyes sparkled as it caught the light. The faintest sprinkle of freckles peppered her cheeks. A few strands of rich umber hair had come out of her braids. They had an overwhelming urge to brush one away from her face. Such an action could be perceived as too invasive, so they resisted and sat down beside her, fidgeting with their Longbow, flicking the tiny charm that adorned it. The pair wordlessly decided to wait and rest— both with different intentions. 

“You’re always this quiet, hm?” Loba asked suddenly, after clicking the mag into her rifle. 

“Mm.” Bloodhound grunted awkwardly and lurched, falling back on the rickety board of the tiny shelter. They cursed their gear for making the obvious sound that it did. With every passing second in her presence, they were transforming into even more of a bumbling mess. 

“Goodness. I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with _me.”_ She feigned a pout. 

“NO! There is… nothing... wrong with you,” they stammered. _Gods. Why does this have to happen right now? The words escaping, the anxiety, the awkwardness._ It wasn’t fair. They were so confident around everyone else. Maybe that was because the hunter had more pride than they let on. _They_ were better than the rest— so much more honorable and worthy than the other contestants that scrambled around in the Ring. But now, they were faced with another hunter who possessed just as much resolve— and who was significantly more shapely.

“Correct answer.” She grinned. “Well, even if you aren’t much of a talker, we still get along. So tell me _cachorro de caça,_ why do you wear that mask? Would you let me have a peek? Because I have a feeling you’re blushing right now.” 

_Fjandinn._ The wolf saw right through them. The mask obviously didn’t conceal their fluster. Her advances were relentless. It felt terrifying and exhilarating. 

“I… don’t take it off… right now. I wouldn't… take it off.” They managed to push the words out.

“Not even for a lady?” Loba tilted her head with a coy expression. They swore she pushed her bosom with an arm on purpose. Their eyes flicked back up to meet hers. 

“ _No_.” Bloodhound squeaked like a nervous child. 

“Aw. Playing hard to get, hm? It’s futile. I always get what I want.” She hummed and absently admired the elegance of her glistening nails.

 _Want. Was she saying that she… wanted them? That she wanted to see them?_ The hunter gulped. They looked so bland and _ugly_ compared to her. 

“And I want what others don’t have. As far as I know, no one has seen _your_ _face_.” Thick lashes framed her gaze as she looked up to meet their lenses. They could tell she was thinking about them— deeply _._ Her thoughts must be as perfect as her face and those thoughts were now about them. This moment of honor felt just as good as glory from the _gods_. 

_No._

The hunter stopped themself quickly. A worldly woman, no matter how enticing, could not offer the gods’ eternal life. And besides, even if the wolf gazed at them with fondness, she was _calculating._ Those deep, brown eyes concealed even deeper motivations. She was a hunter, as were they. What she hunted for was information and allyship— they knew that much. 

“Oh.” Was all they said. 

Static buzzed in their ear. 

A gritty and unmistakable voice came over their shared comms. “ _There’s a—“_

Loba snatched the receiver from Bloodhound’s belt and muted it. Naturally, she was versed in pick-pocketing. It was such a swift motion that the hunter didn’t notice until Anita’s voice disappeared. She then just as quickly plucked her earpiece out and tossed it out of a crack in the wall, into the water below. 

“We need to hear her…” They mumbled. 

“No. We don’t. _You_ and _I_ will be the ones to win this. Private Willams doesn’t need to hear _our_ conversation anyway.” 

_Touch._

The wolf leaned forward and rubbed her hand up their thigh. She was mere inches from them now. The hunter cursed the spot of mud that had dried on their right lense. The dirt was obscuring the close view of her beauty. Her face was perfectly angular and painted with skillful precision. The expression she wore was one of affection that concealed _desire._ She deeply desired _something_ and they prayed that it was them. 

The scent of sweet spice and luxurious musk trickled into their respirator, dulling the hunter’s senses. Of course, a woman who looked so beautiful smelled beautiful too. 

“Don't worry about her. She says she can handle herself. _Let_ _her_.” Loba purred. 

_Another hand._

A hand so light and gentle was feeling along a side piece of their mask. A gossamer of touch was slowly working a flat buckle. At first, they didn’t notice, so drunk on her beauty and scent. 

She was trying to figure out a way to remove the mask. _Conniving, clever, and calculating._ The hunter had a fleeting thought— that her intentions for uncovering their identity weren’t pure. She didn’t desire them, rather, she desired a string she could use to puppeteer them into doing her bidding. They didn’t want to believe it but they _suspected_ it.

“Stop.” Out of visceral fear, Bloodhound firmly grabbed her thin wrist. Even if they loved her attention, they could _not_ be revealed. Not now, at least. 

Her eyes widened and she gracefully moved away from them, snatching her hand out of their gloved grip.“You’re _that_ serious about it, hm?” 

“I am.” 

She sighed, seemingly disappointed, and sat back on her knees. The wolf gazed out of a tiny crack in the stream-side shelter. The crackle of gunfire popped from far in the distance. The ambient sound brought them back to reality— where they were fighting in a bloodsport and just lost communication with their squadmate— a reality where they let that happen just because they were smitten. 

“We need to contact Anita,” Bloodhound demanded. No matter how beautiful the she-wolf was, she had been relentless and controlling. Despite her charms, there was something sinister about her brazen ego and well-hidden motives. They didn’t appreciate that, especially if her brash actions were at the expense of their trusted ally. 

“She’s coming to us,” Loba responded rather flatly, nodding to the map display on the hunter’s arm. Checking it revealed that she was correct, a blue marker had left its sniping position to cross the valley and approach the two markers that were waiting at the riverside. 

The hunter sighed anticipating the inevitable shit show that was about to ensue. Anita would be fuming. Sure enough, the sound of heavy boots trudged closer on the muddy land below. A loud thump sounded as someone swung the door to the shelter open. Just in case, they readied their pistol. In the Ring, one could never be too safe. They breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar figure of the soldier stomped up the stairs. Naturally, her scowl was so intense that it would make any man or child weep. 

“Fuck.” She scolded loudly. “I was hoping you two were killed.” 

Bloodhound stood up to meet her and slung a bag over their shoulder, preparing to reposition. “Don’t wish for such things, Anita.” 

“How cruel.” Loba piped in, grinning smugly to herself as she ignored the other two— absently gazing down a scope. 

Presumably, the soldier was too enraged to think of a witty pejorative and instead opted for glaring at the hunter. “You’re letting this bullshit happen. I’m startin’ to think you like the feeling of her heel stabbing your crotch.” She hissed and jabbed a finger at their chest. “So who’s side are you on?” 

“There are no _sides._ We are all fighting as one,” they responded sternly and stood up taller. 

“Thank you, darling.” A pretty voice chimed in.

The hunter’s heart skipped a beat. They knew the comment was made in her typical flirtatious jest, but the words still sounded... _nice_ . _Gods_. They were thankful that Anita wasn’t psychic. 

She leaned in closer, she was taller but only by a small margin. “There’s gonna be _sides_ , trust me.” 

Bloodhound knew that she wasn’t referring to the current match, rather, she was referring to the external circumstances that surrounded the wolf’s entry to the Games. They also knew that Anita took so much issue with the wolf only because she perceived such circumstances to be unfair. Loba didn’t have to play preliminaries or apply formally. After she blew up the island, she quite literally waltzed in with little resistance. The hunter wasn’t going to complain; very few things could get under their skin. Battle was battle— and besides, she was a welcome addition to their squad. 

“Hmph. There are no _sides_ now. Your ego betrays you. Come Loba, _andskoti_ will overrun this valley soon. Best we move north.” 

“I’m so _thankful_ to have such a wise hunter to help me in my first match.” She chirped and stood up. 

Beneath the mask, they flushed and grinned. Logically, they knew she was just toying with them. Emotionally, her praise made them feel so _fuzzy_. 

Anita stormed down the stairs and grumbled something obscene.   
  


* * *

_  
“_ That’s the last one!” She called. The hunter turned to see Loba grinning and standing over a deathbox near the runoff ditch. 

After trekking upstream and into the sands of the desert, the trio had run into another squad. Bloodhound made quick work of one member who was attempting to run off. With no cover other than meager trees, they shot the straggler down. Naturally, two more remained. Anita cleaned up one who was distracted while looting in the shelter and apparently the wolf, who had lagged when the others moved forward, found the last. 

“Strong work!” They called back and waved to her. A swell of pride bloomed in their chest. _They were proud of her._ The wolf needn’t prove herself but they were still impressed. Sure, it was just a nobody squad and not a real challenge, but it was still her first kill. 

Loba tossed her bracelet and with a shiny _clink_ it landed next to them. Her form materialized in an instant. With a toss of braided hair, she laughed and skipped ahead. Playfully, she turned around and graced them with a silly grin. Bloodhound jogged behind, smiling only to themself. They wondered how it was possible to be so effortlessly _perfect._ They wanted to ask her for some pointers. At the same time, they didn’t have hair long enough for the braids and they didn’t know anything about makeup. 

Anita scouted ahead as the trio made their way across the sands, utilizing brush and rocks as cover. Eventually, the threesome all grouped up under a large natural formation. The sound of gunfire raged to the west, probably near the dilapidated airbase. The hunter set up their rifle on a rock and scanned the horizon. Much to their disappointment, there were no signs of enemy activity. They wanted a chance to impress the wolf with their skillful sniping. 

_A_ _hand._ A hand pressed affectionately into their left shoulder and the presence of someone leaned down.

Chills instantly rippled down their back.

“See anything?” Loba purred near their ear. 

“Nothing of interest.” Bloodhound let the rifle fall slack and turned to face her. “Now, however…” their voice was laced with a playful cadence. The words came naturally this time and they quickly thanked the gods. 

“Oh, _sweet talker!”_ She giggled and touched her lip.

“Disgusting,” Anita grumbled in the background as she watched the other flank. 

Loba rolled her eyes and settled down next to the hunter, clutching her R-99. She sighed blissfully, fanning herself and looking up at the sky. The desert, despite being small, was markedly more intense than the forested climate. Bloodhound watched her out of the corner of their gaze. They knew it would be smarter to keep an eye on the surrounding flanks— but their wits disappeared a while a ago. 

Suddenly, she turned. Somehow she knew they were staring at her. She smiled and rested her against the rock. Her smile was different than the one she wore for others— it was _genuine._

A flurry of tiny birds burst in their chest. 

The pair held onto the moment, at least for a few seconds. The hunter smiled back, but she would never know. 

“Gotta move west,” Anita announced flatly, breaking the silent bliss. “I spotted a few stragglers.” 

“Ugh. Fine.” The wolf whined but still kept grinning at them. 

With an amused hum, the hunter slung their rifle over a shoulder. 

* * *

The trio approached the complex outside of the airbase. The hunter knelt down and examined discarded shells. The area had definitely seen activity. Scanning revealed nothing, but did earn them a curious look from the wolf as she eyed the kit-bashed tech on their arm. Later, the hunter would have to find the opportunity to brag about it. 

“Four squads left and were already in the ring,” Loba chirped, examining a small display map “damn, this has been easy.” 

“And I’m sure you’re used to that. Never had to fight in your life.” 

They winced beneath the mask, it was a low blow even for Anita. 

“You don’t know me,” she spat back. 

“Please,” Bloodhound begged, “the greatest trial now lies ahead. We must _focus.”_

“I’m focusing,” the wolf rolled her eyes and pulled out her shining staff. The hunter watched as it opened from the ground. “I’m focusing on the loot around here,” she shot them a grin. 

Their tech paled in comparison to the elegance of her staff. It seemed almost like magic. The hunter had a cursory understanding of engineering, but couldn’t even come up with theory as to how such a thing worked. Anita wasn’t too impressed but reluctantly still used the device, snagging some more ammo for herself. 

“We should scout the airbase,” she demanded flatly. 

“I'll stay back this time.” It was clear Loba was now actually offended regarding the previous comments. Bloodhound was going to protest, insisting that this late in the Game the trio should stay grouped, but they let her have her space. Covering multiple positions wasn’t a terrible strategy anyway. “I'll meet up with you when I hear a fight.” 

The soldier shrugged and moved with the hunter to scope out the airbase, both with weapons at the ready. 

The unmistakable clamour of shouts and gunfire sounded close by. Two squads were duking it out in the storage building below. The tracker knew not to scan at this time, lest giving away their position. So carefully, the pair jumped down onto containers and approached the building. Apparently the surviving squad retreated as the pair moved to take hold of the base. Anita watched their back as Bloodhound set up behind the door. 

“ _Loba_!” They called out the door, cursing the fact that she didn’t have her comms. The enemy probably heard. Surely, she could quickly reach her squad with the bracelet, though 

A tense second passed. 

And then another. 

And then a whole minute as the soldier and hunter held down the building watching entrances. 

Their pulse started to race as they considered the possibility of Loba being downed. Her little stunt earlier made it so that she couldn’t call to the others if she was stranded— shared squad comms were the way to do that, but in a display of brash ego, she had tossed her earpiece away. Maybe she ran off, chasing the other squad and ending up biting more than she could chew. She could very easily be downed or _eliminated_ right now. 

“ _Shit,”_ they hissed. 

Anita opened her mouth to presumably comment on the odd English swear, but a frag hit the ground in front of the two. 

“Grenade!” The soldier yelped and ran to the other side of the building, jumping out the doorway and leaping behind the wall. They followed suit. 

In a split second the pair exchanged looks and nodded. The other squad was pushing the building. The close quarters provided the perfect opportunity for a simple, but effective strategy. The pair were veterans and in moments of high-stress, they operated on the exact same level. _Don’t hesitate. Execute._

Bloodhound’s plan was to down a few then rush to the wolf. They _couldn’t_ let her get eliminated. It simply _couldn’t_ happen. It _wouldn’t_ happen. No one fought like they did. No one weathered the tides of fate like they did. 

As quickly as she launched smoke frags into the building, the beast flipped the cover of their tech, initiating the sequence. With an enraged roar, they leapt into the building. A once mild mannered, awkward poet became a raw force of nature, determined to rescue their wolf. Only the gods could stop them. 

A red form glowed in the room, frantically stumbling around in the smoke. Before the enemy could notice the predator, they slammed into the body. The prey yelped but didn’t have a chance to make any more sound as a hunting knife to the throat quickly eliminated them.

The beast continued mercilessly, shoving through a door and drawing their new shotgun on the other member waiting by the entrance. 

_One more._

They chased a glowing red trail that led to another building. The last member was cowering in the corner, rifle at the ready, but they were no match for the _beast_. 

_Only three left. Hopefully less._

Gunfire sounded close by. Presumably, it was Anita. They could chase it and make quick work of the rest but they needed to get to the wolf. They were torn. Either help the soldier or help the wolf. 

Loba _needed_ them. 

But the gunfire was an immediate threat. The beast couldn’t hesitate another second and raced towards the direction of the sound. 

They burst through the backdoor of the building and ran towards the south runway where the sound had been heard. They were met with a fresh deathbox and _Loba,_ perfectly alive and well, still gripping her rifle.“Aha! That’s it!” She gasped and turned to meet the hunter. It was obvious as to how she had managed to swiftly flank the odd position. 

_“A winner has been decided,”_ a voice boomed through the entire arena. 

Bloodhound nearly fell over, knocked back by the sudden force of the wolf jumping into their embrace. 

“You’re okay!” They gasped, shocked and relieved.

“Very observant of you.” She shoved them playfully. “You really thought I couldn’t handle myself? _Well_ ,” she scoffed, “maybe next time you can rescue me.” 

“ _Ah_ .” They sighed exhausted, rage fading. “I’d prefer to not do _that_ again. Please keep your comms _next time_.” 

“Aww. You really were worried about me,” she twirled a strand of hair and eyed them with a coy smirk. 

“Of course I was.” They tried to act nonchalant but the comment came off in an odd tone. 

She chuckled, pleased. Thankfully, The soldier approached the two with a wave and a grin— taking her attention off of the hunter. 

“Nice work,” Anita shook their hand. “Got dicey there in the end but we managed.” 

“And what about me?” Loba taunted, playing with her bracelet.

“Ya did alright.” She said in a soft voice. 

The wolf was stunned and blinked, then glanced to the side awkwardly. Underneath the disguise of the mask, the hunter smiled, admiring her candid and cute expression. 

* * *

Bloodhound didn’t care for the press. That was obvious to everyone familiar with the Games. They were the master of one-word answers much to the frustration of the media. Thankfully, their rising star of a squadmate drew the attention off of them this time. They were able to slip away from the post-game interviews easily as she dazzled the media and crowd. 

Now they were relaxing, totally ‘gearless’ and maskless in the firing range. No one knew of their routine and no one visited the firing range to train in the evening, especially right after a match. So thankfully, the spot remained as their private getaway. They loved the scenery— the sunset, the precious bones, and the gentle beasts towering in the distance. Liquor in hand they sat back, neglecting the rifle they were once practicing with. 

Artur, who had seemingly been missing for the majority of the day, landed on a rock beside them. With obsidian eyes shining, their beloved bird hopped over. It held something in its beak. 

Upon realizing what the object was, the hunter frowned. 

“Artur!” They scolded. “That isn’t _yours_ .” It was a simple, yet luxurious golden stud. The little earring belonged to none other than the _wolf_ . They had seen in her ear. It must have fallen out in the arena and Artur, having an eye for shiny objects, swooped down to snatch it. Defiantly, the raven cocked it’s head and glared at them. The creature knew right from wrong— and stealing was wrong. _The thief of a thief,_ the hunter mused 

“Give it here,” Bloodhound demanded. 

Reluctantly, the bird obeyed and let go of the earring, but only with an indignant puff of the chest feathers. 

They rolled the earring between the pads of their fingers. _Fate._ This was fate. _The Nornir_ wove the wolf and the hunter’s paths together and commanded the little piece of jewelry to fall out when it did. And as always, their strange bird set such fateful events into motion. The hunter was now presented with an opportunity. Not only could they win her affection by returning the earring— they could give her something along with it, _a_ _letter._

Giddy and grinning, they jumped up from their sniping position and rushed out of the firing range, down the dark hall to grab their journal from their locker. The journal held everything from personal notes, diary entries, and doodles. Now it would offer a page to become a letter. Given everything they had felt about _Loba,_ it would hold many pages of many letters never to be sent. 

They had a lot of feelings about the wolf. She charmed them— they fancied her, but at the same time, there was a mysterious shadow cast by her brilliance. Something deeper was underneath her pretty voice and smooth words. Was she so kind because she was fond of them? Or was she merely lulling them into a dumb haze? The hunter figured this letter had to be genuine. This letter had to be an offering; It had to come from a place of warmth and understanding— a place of mutual pain.

Just like anyone familiar with the Games, her past was no secret to them. Her past was theirs— the roads of the wolf and hunter had run parallel and now they intersected. It would be a risk to lay out vulnerabilities to her, but they hoped that she wouldn’t take advantage of them. They hoped she would see that they were no threat. Maybe then she would lower the walls of her vapid, flirtatious defense. Maybe then she would be _real_. Maybe she would admire them in the same way they admired her. Surely, she desired a person who could truly understand her pain and her path. 

Bloodhound returned to the firing range, journal in hand. They crawled up onto their preferred spot for writing and wool-gathering. In the far distance, the early sunset blessed the mountains with its color. None of the others appreciated the beauty of Solace’s wilderness like they did. They wondered what the wolf would think of this view. 

After toying with their pen for a moment, they set it to the page. 

_Loba,_

_The strength it must taka for a child, without their kin, to survive alone is mighty. This tale is fylla with sights of mitt own. I am not without a minute absent the thoughts of Johann and Brigida, no matter how small. There are many trials one must face throughout their journey to valhalla's end. I can see it in your eyes that you, Andrade fighter, have the courage to slatra the veikr and climb to your rightful place over those who wronged you. It would be an honor to fight again alongside someone with the passion of fire that burns a thousand suns. Demonio is your path, mine is my own, and only in battle are we tested. We may look different, we may be different, but with bloth and sand, we are the same. I welcome you to the fight. Shall we meet again._

_P.S. Attached is an earring of yours. It was lost in the chaos of battle and it seems my vinur retrieved it._

They fidgeted with the edge of the pages, staring at the scrawls. _Scrawls_ . _Raven scratch, really._ Their handwriting had always been rushed and messy— a reflection of the hasty thoughts that sped across the front of their mind. Writing quickly was necessary, lest, the thoughts be lost forever. The hunter took pride in their creative instinct. This was all part of their technique; but such poor writing would surely be deemed as unpolished by her. This letter had to be perfect. After ripping the page from their journal, the hunter sucked in a deep breath and started again, copying word by word with steady penmanship. Slowly, the letter took form. 

This time it was neat and easily legible. Satisfied with their work they closed the journal and decided to sleep on the decision to actually deliver it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was... longer than I anticipated honestly lol. Also Bloodhound’s letter is taken directly from a loading screen on the battle pass fun fact. It’s not really explained where those character musings come from so I turned this one into a letter because... it just works (lol)
> 
> I apologize for any spacing/ formatting weirdness. It just happens when copy pasting from google docs and I’m too lazy to fix it rn:”)
> 
> As always, I love feedback. Thanks for taking a chance on this rare pair and my fic
> 
> I also revived [my twitter](https://twitter.com/kittykabibby) gonna post art and stuff there!


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